


golden scars

by eccentrick



Series: Tumblr Prompts [9]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, M/M, Magical Realism, References to Depression, Suicidal Ideation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-22
Updated: 2018-08-22
Packaged: 2019-06-28 23:50:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,244
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15717603
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eccentrick/pseuds/eccentrick
Summary: Kintsugi:golden repair; golden joineryYou cannot fix what's broken, and so on the path of mending, you grow stronger.





	golden scars

**Author's Note:**

> This was written in a whim; it's very experimental. Think Shaun David Hutchinson experimental. I'd really appreciate feedback! 
> 
> Unbeta'd

At first, Lance thinks it’s a speck of dirt. Or a grain of space rice. Even some left over milk that dried at the corners of his mouth. But, he gives it a closer look after a particular harsh training sequence, and freezes, his heart dropping to his feet. Along the corner of his frownlines – a barely there imprint since he’s been doing more of than usual – looks like a crack.

No, his skin isn’t dry. He moisturizes like no tomorrow. The newly discovered fault is like a broken line in clay, fissures in the ground after an earth shattering quake. His fingers tremble as he scratches at it, tries to pry is open with his nails just to see what would happen – just to see if it’s real, if his skin will uncoil like a loose thread. When nothing happens, he scrubs at it until his dark skin is splashed with red, the color of pain.

He stares at his reflection. Grits his teeth. Red, the color of pain.

Like any good paladin, Lance takes his trembling thoughts and pushes them into a convenient box, closing the lid for later inspection. Or, like usual, wait until it grows dust so he can brush his metaphoric fingers through it, like a sign saying ‘see! nothing to be upset about! you overreacted like usual!’

He eats. He trains. He eats again. He sleeps. That’s the most he can do since he died and was resurrected (now that is a lot to unload, so he just leaves it packed up tight) and he doesn’t know what to do with himself. He doesn’t feel particularly sad, because that takes too much energy. So the brittle emotion nips at his heels mostly, waiting with baited breath for his limbs to feel limber again. It doesn’t happen, and he’s glad for it.

No one seems to notice his lack of jokes: Pidge is happy with Hunk, tinkering with whatever new invention they’ve thought of, Coran and Allura plotting their next move, Shiro throwing glances at him–

Scratch that, Shiro is currently staring at him.

Lance feels a bit of heat peek through his shield of nonchalant emptiness. He munches on a bit of space kale in panic, but stops halfway, green-purple leaves hanging from his mouth, when he realizes that he must look like Kaltenecker. He swallows it all at once and chokes. He really doesn’t want to die by leafy greens.

Shiro startles and reaches over to pat his back, dislodging the offending food. Lance shots him a grateful glance (or ungrateful, since he was so close to ending his embarrassment.)

“You okay, Lance?” Shiro asks. It’s loud enough that the others stop their conversations, eyes zooming onto Lance and his splintering skin.

He forces a laugh. “Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?”

That seems to be enough for everyone, and Lance swears he hears his skin crack, feels the fissure yawn open. Well, it was enough for everyone but Shiro, who shoots looks at him for the rest of the dinner.

–

Dying isn’t bad. Not really. Yeah, those last few seconds of life before death was like soaking in the sun only to be dropped into freezing water, but once the water envelops you, it’s soothing. Lance wasn’t dead for long, mere minutes, perhaps only seconds, so he doesn’t exactly know what is after life. He’s sort of happy he never got to know, or life would be that much harder to bare.

But sometimes he wishes for that numbing nothingness. That refreshing cool. If he ever let that slip, he knows the others would be at least mildly concerned, so he keeps it to himself.

Battles are easier to face, now, at least. He no longer fears death, but being captured and refused of it. Lance knows he wouldn’t survive like Shiro, so there would be no point in trying.

Maybe that’s why Shiro sees it when no one else does.

–

Shiro watches him now. Observes him, ever aware of where Lance is. He feels an echo of annoyance followed by something warm, which leaves him confused.

Lance feels trapped. The fissure has now encompassed his entire face with hairline like fractures, all showing nothing but darkness underneath. Is this a side effect of death? Is this why no one else seems to carry the the spiderweb like lines?

He’s on the edge of a panic attack. Shiro finds him curled up in the empty rec room, chasing after his breath. The other man’s weight on the couch feels like an echo. Of what? Lance doesn’t know. He was never one to be poetic.

“Lance.” Shiro states his name. There is not question tacked on, no unspoken 'are you okay? please be okay for me’ on the end. Lance feels a rush of gratitude, then embarrassment. He’s once again embarrassing himself.

“Lance,” he says again. Mechanical meets flesh. It’s surprisingly warm, like his organic hand. “Lance, it’s okay, it’s okay. It won’t always be like that.”

Lance’s breath stops, ebbing his impending panic down to an unpleasant buzz under his skin. “You can see them?!”

Shiro is grim. He withdraws his Galran arm, and clenches his fist. “Yes. I’m sorry I didn’t say anything before. I know you must have thought you were crazy. I didn’t know how to approach you about it.”

“But - but you always know how to approach things,” Lance replies dumbly.

“No, I don’t.” Shiro laughs sadly. “I never truly know. Being a leader isn’t knowing everything, it includes a lot of educated guesses and risks, based on our teams abilities. Those decisions weigh heavily on me.”

Shiro lifts his sleeve, directing Lance’s gaze at the meeting of flesh and metal; along the border are cracks, fissures, just like Lance has on his face. But, the biggest difference is that some are repaired with gold fillings, only visible when the light hits it just right. Lance feels his mouth gap open in surprise.

“You see…breaks in ourselves sometimes blinds us to others’.” Shiro reaches forward, placing his Galran hand on Lance’s check gently, so gentle. His eyes are still drawn to the golden lines.

“When we’re in pain, we draw in. We’re nothing but injured animals. But when we allow others in to help, we can stop the effects of pain and trauma. Well, we can stave the flow, at least.” He smiles genuinely when Lance traces one of the golden filled lines. “We can grow, be better than we were before. Stronger, like a newly healed bone.”

“Stronger…together,” Lance whispers.

There’s a private look on Shiro’s face, one he’s never seen before, and one that must be directed at him. A zing goes through his veins.

That night, before bed, he applies his moisturizer. In the dim light, he sees the corner of his mouth flash golden.

–

His eyes are opened after that. He sees the fissures in Keith’s fingers, no golden filament present. He sees gold peek out from under Pidge’s shirt, where the fissures must have grown around her heart. Allura and Coran’s Altean marks seems metallic in a certain light, and Hunk wears his headband to cover his.

All this time, Lance was in pain, isolating himself for no reason at all. There was always others there who would understand his struggles, even if they don’t go about it the same way he does. He begins to grow, begins to fill in the crevices with new light.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope this made any sense! Join me on my personal tumblr: lo-tor. I take requests!


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